Réunion en France
by Soranator
Summary: Kyle had never even wanted to go to stupid France. Slash.
1. Défi de Cigarette

**A/N: My God, is this going to be a… a chaptered fic? I think so, you know. I think so. I shall try my best to keep it updated if you all like it, but knowing me it'll last a few weeks. I'll have to write quickly!  
Warnings: Slash (boyxboy)**

**---**

Kyle never even wanted to go to France. He wasn't that big on European culture, or foreign foods, or hot weather, or trying to translate what people are saying with only two years of French lessons. In which he basically learnt "Bonjour!" and "Je m'appelle Kyle."

Unfortunately for him, it had been years since his family last went on vacation. His Mom thought it'd be nice to take them somewhere where they could be both educated and relaxed, but he was pretty sure he'd be doing neither there. The French air made him nauseous. Even worse, they were staying for three weeks. That was half of his summer vacation he'd be spending there, with his _family_.

For the most of it he sat in the hotel room. It had air conditioning that he put on full blast all through the day and night, even though it was stupidly loud, but he wasn't used to the warm weather. He studied mainly; he was hoping to be a doctor once he'd finished university.

"Kyle, Mom wants us to go shopping with her today." Kyle was sat on his current bed in his pyjamas. His laptop was on the bed in front of him, with a few conversations opened on MSN. It didn't sound like he had much of a choice whether or not to go.

"I bet Dad's not going." He said pettily, signing out and shutting down his computer.

"No, he's going to look around for a restaurant for us tonight. Fucking bastard."

"Mind your language," Kyle said automatically, knowing full well he'd used words like that way before Ike's age. Ike pouted, sharing his brother's thoughts.

Kyle changed in the bathroom quickly. He tried to dress with as little clothing as possible. Sadly for him, all he had packed was jeans and t-shirts, and he refused to wear his Dad's thin shorts and Hawaiian shirts that he thought were so appropriate. He put his phone in his pocket and shut the door behind him.

"Come on bubbe, we need to get something for your Aunt and cousins. They don't get to travel much, probably because your Uncle was a bit of a-" and she was off, setting the tone for the rest of the day.

---

"Hey Ike, I dare you to knock that woman's drink over."

"Which woman? The one who looks like she's just killed someone? Or the blonde one?"

"First one."

"… Fine."

Kyle sat back in his white metal chair, watching Ike complete his dare. They were outside a café, and their mother was inside, getting them lunch. The day had been long, and it was only 2:00pm. They still had lot's more shopping to do after this, she assured them. Ike bumped into the table and did a pretty good job of acting as though it was an accident, waving his arms and mumbling "désole!" The woman glared at him, and continued glaring at him until he sat back down besides Kyle, smiling smugly.

"Alright then, now I get to pick a dare for you. I dare you to… ask that man for a cigarette," he pointed to a tall, brunette man, who stood at the corner of the café with a cigarette in his hand. He too, looked as though he'd just killed someone.

"Dude, I can't do that. If Mom comes out and sees me talking to him, or with a cigarette, she'll kill me."

"Don't be such a pussy, Kyle."

"I don't even know how to ask for a cigarette in French!"

"Est-ce que je peux avoir une cigarette. Really, did you not read a single page of the French dictionary Mom gave us ?"

Kyle sighed, forgetting that his brother was a cheeky fucking genius. It was either risk getting killed by this stranger, or have to listen to Ike call him a pussy for the next two and a half weeks. Who _wouldn't _go for the first option? He stood up and walked over to the man, who was completely ignoring him and doing something on his phone. This was so nerve wracking. The boy really did not look like the friendly type, and he doubted he could get away with yelling "It was a dare!" before he stubbed out his cigarette in his eye.

"Uh…" he said, as he approached. The man turned to him, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"I, uh…" _Oh balls, what was it again? I can't even remember the phrase. I think it was… _"Uh… est-ce… uh… est-ce…?" The brunette raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Oui?"

"Est-ce… uh… que…?"

"Etes-vous une certaine sorte d'idiot ? »

Kyle gulped and shrugged his shoulders, trying to think of some French, any French, to get himself away from this without looking a fool. The French man laughed.

"Vous ne savez pas?"

"Uh…" His amusement continued; he even put away his phone.

"Où habitez-vous?" He knew this one! It was one of the first phrases in his book. At least, he hoped he knew it… habitez was like… home… because it was like habitat, which is where someone lives? He didn't know the French word for America, so he decided to test his luck.

"A-America?" The French man stubbed out his cigarette on the wall. Kyle turned to look at Ike, who was stifling his laughter, obviously thinking that the conversation was going badly.

"Oh? I thought I recognized ze accent. I lived in America for a short time." Kyle actually gasped as he started speaking English. There weren't many English speaking people in this area of town, he thought his Mom had done that purposely to encourage him to learn the language.

"O-oh… right…" Now he felt even more foolish. He rubbed the back of his neck and tried not to look nervous.

"What eez eet zat you were wanting?"

"Oh! Yeah. I uh… well… never mind. My brother dared me to ask you for a cigarette, but I think he thinks I've already done it. Sorry for bothering you…" The French man dug into his pocket, taking out a packet of cigarettes and lighting one in his mouth, passing it to Kyle. He took it wearily; he didn't even smoke, and his mother could come out at any second. He turned to face Ike, who blinked at him in disbelief.

"T-Thank you!" Kyle held the cigarette nervously between his fingers, aware that the man was waiting for him to take a drag. So he did. Luckily, this wasn't his first time, and he didn't cough and splutter. He didn't need to make himself look even more stupid.

"What part of America are you from?" He asked, lighting his own cigarette.

"It's uh, a small town in Colorado. Called South Park." He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Zat eez where my muzzer lives. I used to live zere, also."

"Seriously?"

Ike ran over to the pair, grabbing Kyle's sleeve.

"Mom's coming back!" Kyle panicked and dropped the cigarette, stamping it out and shooting an apologetic look at the man.

"I'm sorry! My Mom… uh… she doesn't like me smoking. I have to go now, thank you for the cigarette and uh… yeah. Thanks!" The French man nodded, breathing smoke in his direction.

"Au revoir."

---

For the rest of the shopping day, Kyle was left thinking about the man who gave him the cigarette. He used to live in South Park? He did kind of look familiar, in a way. Maybe he lived there when he was young? It was possible he'd lived there before he was born- he did look a bit older – or there was even the possibility that they'd just never met. Though, everyone knew everyone in South Park…

"Did you get anything nice, boys?" His Dad asked at the restaurant table. Kyle and Ike looked at him sourly as he started their mother on a exact recollection of the days events, _without _ leaving a single detail.

"I still can't believe you actually got a cigarette off him. You were talking for ages, I thought you didn't know French?" Ike whispered across the table.

"He spoke English. He said he used to live in South Park."

"No way, dude!"

"I know. I was really confused. Did you recognise him?" Ike paused, staring directly in front of him in concentration.

"… He kind of… didn't he look like that kid? You said he died during the war, but your friend bought him back, then he left? He used to live like… a few streets away, didn't he?" Kyle bit down on his lip, deep in thought, then gasped.

"You're right! How the fuck did you remember-"

"Kyle! Watch your language!"

"S-Sorry Mom…"

Ze Mole. That's what he had called himself. Kyle couldn't remember his real name, but that was enough to put his mind at rest. Although, now he wished that he had apologised for the trouble they'd gotten him into all those years ago. Maybe thank him for helping, too. It's a shame neither of them had recognised them sooner, and with Kyle's luck, he wasn't exactly going to just bump into him again…

He got the feeling that the next two and a half weeks would be spent in that café, just in case.

---

**A/N: Review's, as always, would be very much appreciated! Although I don't reply to them (I actually only just found out how…) I really, really appreciate all of them. Thank you for reading!  
Translations: (All the French was from an online translator, so I apologise for any mistakes)  
Etes-vous une certaine sorte d'idiot ? – Are you some kind of idiot?  
****Vous ne savez pas? – You don't know?  
Où habitez-vous? – Where do you live ?**


	2. Maison doux Maison

**A/N: This isn't as good as I would have liked it to be, but I really have to get it out of the way so that I can finally progress with the story. Sorry for keeping you all waiting! And thank you for all the alerts and reviews, they're very appreciated. **

**---**

"Now, you're sure you've packed everything?"

"Yeah."

"You haven't left any books? Clothes? Underwear? Have you got your glasses?"

"Mom, I said I've got everything."

He hoped he had everything, anyway, but he was tired of unpacking and repacking his suitcase every time he thought he'd forgotten something. Anything that wasn't in there was going to stay in the hotel room, he decided.

"Mom, I can't find my toothbrush."

"Oh for goodness sake, Ike…"

Like he had predicted, he'd spent pretty much every day of the holiday at the café. He'd taken his laptop and textbooks, of course - he wasn't _just _looking for ze Mole, he wasn't that desperate to apologise, it was just that staying in the café also meant he avoided family outings, which was always a plus.

He hadn't seen the French man again, of course, and he wasn't really expecting to. It was just luck that they'd bumped into each other the first time.

"Sheila, have you seen that shirt I was wearing here?"

"Which one?"

"The yellow one. With the red flowers. I can't find it anywhere."

"Check on the balcony."

Still, he'd kinda hoped he'd get lucky twice. But it wasn't going to keep him up at night. He just didn't have much else to do in France, that's all. Once he got home to his friends, he'd forget all about the encounter.

"Kyle?" Kyle turned his head to his little brother, who was sat cross legged on the bed next to him. When had that happened? "You okay, dude?"

"I'm fine. I just want to get home, that's all." Ike sympathized, nodding his head.

"Yeah well, we have a long flight ahead of us."

"I know," Kyle sighed. "I just hope Mom's worn herself out…"

---

Lying down on your own bed after a holiday was the greatest feeling in the world. The familiar warmth, smell and comfort made the entire three weeks of boredom worth it. Unfortunately, all of Kyle's friends were either busy or Cartman, so he still had to sit around on his own, though that wasn't really a problem for him, he generally preferred it. Just not when he was alone in France.

He looked down at his cell phone, frowning. The only person who'd texted him while he was away was Kenny, and that was to tell him that he thought he saw Pamela Anderson in South Park. Stan hadn't texted once. Bastard.

It wasn't like he cared, of course. It just would have been nice for his best friend to check in on him. He was probably busy fucking Wendy, he thought frowning, rolling over onto his side.

On the bedside table beneath his phone and wallet lay a ton of medical journals and thick note books that he'd carried around France with him. He wanted to be a doctor. Well, he spent enough time in the hospital with his awful immune system and diabetes, and with Kenny as a friend it would be a plus to know what he was doing in a life or death situation.

_Ring, ring._

Kyle picked up his phone.

"Hey Stan."

"Sup Kyle! How was France? I've missed you dude, it's been lame with out you."

Yeah right.

"I missed you too dude. France was totally lame. It sucks not knowing the language, seriously."

"At least you're back now, huh?"

"I guess, yeah."

There was an awkward silence.

"Uh…" Stan began. Kyle thought desperately for a subject.

"Oh! Guess who I saw in France, though?"

"A sexy French guy you want to bone?"

Well…

"Very funny. No. Do you remember that kid, ze Mole? Helped us with-"

"Oh, I remember him. Christophe wasn't it? Mrs DeLorne is a proper MILF."

"DeLorne?"

"I think that's the name. Something French sounding like that, anyway. What did you say to him?"

"I only realised it was him afterwards. So not much, really."

"Hm. Should have apologised for getting him killed."

"I didn't see him after that. I was going to, though."

"What's he-" there was a voice in the background, probably Stan's older sister, Shelley. "Okay! Okay! Yeah I know. Okay Kyle I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow yeah? First day of college!"

"Yeah. See you dude."

---

Kyle had a strange dream that night. He dreamt he was in a run down apartment. The paint was pealing off the walls and the windows were leaking. There was a small, pathetic Christmas tree in the corner, wrapped badly in colourful decorations. It was just Kyle in the room. He felt like he was waiting for someone, but he didn't know who. He kept looking out the frosted window and checking his watch.

He woke up at 5:30am. For some reason, the dream had disturbed him, and he didn't get back to sleep that night.

---

**A/N: Please review! I love reading comments and critiques. As I said, I'm slightly disappointed in this chapter, but hopefully the next one will be more exciting. I had to bring Kyle home, after all. Thanks again!**


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